Variations on a Japanese Folk Song
by pinksnowboots
Summary: Playing around with various characters in an Orchestra AU. Pairings include ByaRen, IchiRuki, IkkaYumi, ShunUki, etc. Abuse of musical jargon and musings on various songs and characters. Current Chapter: ByaRen-Renji transforms when he plays the drums.
1. Introduction: Orchestra

I think these music fics are starting to become an obsession. I have some for Hetalia, FMA, and now, Bleach... Anyway, this is just a little idea centered around an Orchestra AU. I plan on adding individual stories about certain pairing which will contain liberal amounts of musical terms and general geekery. If you're interested, let me know. Even if you're not, they'll probably still happen anyway. And if for some reason, you like my spastic, stranger, band geek writing, check out my Hetalia story-Reverberations. (Self-plug. Sorry, I know it's obnoxious)

Rating: T, because somehow I always manage to curse and imply gay sex

Genre: Gen for now, will be random music fluff later

Characters: All. Likely pairings include ByaRen, IchiRuki, IkkaYumi, ShunUki, and more which I will decide later. If there is one you want to see, feel free to review and request it and I'll consider it.

Disclaimed.

Alright. Please enjoy, and remember that reviews are quick to type and make me irrationally happy.

* * *

><p>The most famous symphony orchestra in Japan, and they were more like an overdramatic, dysfunctional, slightly incestuous family.<p>

The Yamamoto Orchestra was known worldwide for its impeccable technique, its original compositions, and its colorful cast of characters. Not one of the musicians was not strange or notable in some way or another, and in addition to their quirks, the way they interacted seemed like it would impede any kind of productive rehearsal. Everyone was always at someone's throat, or else they had their tongue shoved down it. No one had any idea how the hell they managed to pull off flawless performances night after night, but somehow, they had risen to the top and stayed there.

Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto. A man known throughout the world for his almost fanatical devotion to music and his strange but effective technique of organizing his musicians into 13 "squads" who practiced together when the full orchestra was not available. An ancient but sprightly man with a bearded braid which almost reached the ground, he stood at the podium and brandished his baton, changing it from a sword to a feather to a piece of cloth wafting through the air from beat to beat. His conducting was known for being so overdramatic as to be entertaining, if it wasn't so effective. He had hand-picked and hand-trained most of the musicians in the group, grooming them for the most elite music schools in the world before bringing them back and paying them handsomely to be part of his ensemble.

Yamamoto's partner in the business was Ukitake Jyuushiro. One of Yamamoto's first students and an acclaimed composer, Jyuushiro had risen to prominence with the help of Yamamoto's endorsement. His name was synonymous with the Yamamoto Orchestra, and out of gratitude, he composed exclusively for his former teacher and mentor.

The rest of the orchestra at first seemed a ragtag group, but Yamamoto's emphatic gestures coaxed miracles out of every horn, string, and drum.

There was Jyuushiro's lover, Kyoraku Shunsui, who had followed Jyuushiro into a contract with Yamamoto. He had also studied under Yamamoto, and despite his eccentric appearance and apparent laziness, he was able to play the bassoon while sleeping, drunk, or leering at Ukitake. Many people cried favoritism when he was chosen to lead one of the squads with studious clarinetist Nanao Ise, but the combination of Shunsui's mellow atmosphere and Nanao's gentle, but strict discipline worked wonders for their squad.

Nanao Ise was a stern but efficient woman, and kind in a wry sort of way to her friends. She put up with Shunsui with a grudging acceptance and rallied the women of the Orchestra for frequent girls-only get-togethers, to build female solidarity in such a male-dominated profession.

Kuchiki Rukia was another ardent feminist, and one of Nanao's friends and partners in politics. She played the bass clarinet, which was practically taller than her, but despite her size, no one could find fault with her playing. She was a little firecracker with a sharp tongue, whether it was used for sixteenth notes or sarcastically chastising Kurosaki Ichigo. She had been a street urchin as a child, but her brother-in-law, Kuchiki Byakuya, had legally adopted her and pampered her, giving her anything she wanted, including music lessons. She had joined the orchestra at the recommendation of Ukitake, who was quite fond of her, and the two could often be found discussing music theory.

Rukia's brother, Kuchiki Byakuya was a very prominent businessman from an important family in Tokyo. The current head of a vast empire, he only played in the orchestra as a hobby, and to spend time with Rukia. He could play a wide range of instruments, as he had been brought up to be extremely cultured, but he preferred the flute to the violin and the cello, despite its feminine associations. With his long hair and delicate features, he looked rather feminine anyway, but everyone in the ensemble agreed that short of Yamamoto, he was by far the most intimidating when displeased. Most people regarded him with a wary kind of respect, but he was not close to many people. He was one pleasant terms with Ukitake and Yamamoto, but he remained with the group for two people: Rukia and her childhood friend Abarai Renji.

Abarai Renji had been an orphan from childhood, and had gone through a very difficult childhood. He and Rukia were part of a small band of homeless children who stole food to survive. When they were old enough, they took odd jobs to support themselves, but life on the streets was difficult in some parts of Tokyo, and they had lost multiple friends to drugs and violence. When Renji's closest male friend was killed in a drive-by shooting, he became disillusioned with his life, and decided to get himself and Rukia into school. They were both naturally bright, and after telling the sad stories of their lives, were accepted on scholarship to a local academy. There, Renji discovered a passion for percussion. He took out all his angers and frustrations on snare drums, bass drums, timpani, cymbals. The notes were just a way to funnel his resentment into something satisfying. After Byakuya found Rukia and took her to live with him, Renji was at lost ends. He eventually went to college on a music scholarship, and some time after graduating, he received a call from Byakuya inviting him to join an ensemble to reconnect with Rukia. Renji accepted and soon became one of the top percussionists, even leading a squad with Byakuya, whom he eventually grew very close to. The two bonded over their intense desire to protect Rukia, and their personalities clashed in a very intriguing way. It wasn't long until rumors started to circulate that they were lovers. Although it was never confirmed, Rukia seemed very pleased.

Renji wasn't the only child prodigy. Rukia's boyfriend Kurosaki Ichigo had picked up her clarinet one day and claimed that he could play it better than her. He wasn't better than her, but he was good enough that she dragged him to a rehearsal and made him try instruments until he found one he was good at, eventually settling on the trumpet. He learned quickly, and a little bit of wheedling from Rukia aimed at Byakuya and Ukitake got him into the orchestra quickly. He fit in easily with the other musicians, although he often got into impromptu musical "duels" with the others, especially Renji. They would play scales-marimba vs trumpet-as fast and as far as they could until someone gave out or until one of the Kuchiki's whacked them on the head (Rukia) or gave a disapproving look (Byakuya).

The rest of the orchestra was just as varied. Madarame Ikkaku, the first chair tuba player, was eager to challenge anyone, anytime, anywhere. The idea that a tuba and a violin were so different that they couldn't be compared never crossed his mind, and he played with a wild energy that would usually be associated with fighting. His best friends and longtime lover, Ayasegawa Yumichika, was pretty much the opposite. Refined and somewhat prissy, he only played instruments which he deemed beautiful enough in appearance and sound, which translated to violin (but not if it was called a fiddle), flute, and piccolo. His lilting trills were the polar opposite of Ikkaku's deep rumblings, but they were the only people who could really put up with each other's idiosyncrasies, and their relationship somehow worked.

Zaraki Kenpachi was an oddity. He never learned how to read music, and still couldn't identify a quarter note, but he was one of the best drummers they had. He couldn't play any keyboard instrument-marimba, xylophone, vibraphone-but give him a stick and something to hit and he could feel the rhythm well enough to play something that miraculously fit the arrangement. His adopted daughter Yachiru tagged along wherever he went, crashing cymbals and tapping triangles. Nobody stopped her because she was practically a force of nature, and besides, she could cause percussive mayhem on beat.

The Shiba clan was also represented. A family of noted musicians, they had three siblings in the ensemble. Kaien, the eldest, played any kind of saxophone flawlessly, while his sister Kukkaku sawed away at the viola like a madwoman, so fast that some people swore they saw sparks. Their younger brother Ganju was rather crude, but played the baritone well and helped the terminally shy flautist Hanataro Yamada get over his paralyzing stage fright.

Boy genius Toshiro Hitsugaya played any music for any brass instrument that was put in front of him, and his co-squad-leader Rangiku Matsumoto drove him nuts with her slightly rebellious French horn. Matsumoto's childhood friend Ichamaru Gin played the most sensual and disturbing oboe ever heard. Sosuke Aizen chimed in on the piano, with Hinamori Momo occasionally playing a duet with her mentor, who she tended to idolize. Izuru Kira and Hisagi Shuuhei joined Zaraki and Renji in the percussion, specializing in mallets and timpani, respectively.

There were others as well, too many to record and put in the press. Every week, without fail, there would be some new story about the Yamamoto Orchestra and what they had done now. Both their music and their personalities were a hot topic, and they didn't plan on leaving the spotlight anytime soon.


	2. Inspiration: Shunsui & Ukitake

My lovelies,

I'm so glad you decided to grace me with your presence, and a hope that this chapter does not disappoint. This chapter is just a bit of whimsy about Ukitake trying to compose and Shunsui trying to "help." Please forgive any incoherency on the grounds that

1. I wrote this at 1 AM.

2. I'm also in a strange mood at the moment.

3. I am rather new at writing dialogue. I prefer to ramble.

4. I really like words. Hence the random ones that Shunsui throws out.

So please, let me know how I did, and please save me from embarrassment by kindly pointing out any flaws. Conversely, if you enjoy it, feel free to let me know through reviews. Reviews are what make me address you all as delightful and wonderful readers instead of silent and ungrateful readers. So please, stroke my ego.

Warnings: Well, I actually did not curse in this one, but Shunsui makes a few less vague than my usual writing references to sex, just because it's Shunsui.

And if you need a refresher, Ukitake is a composer and Shunsui plays the bassoon. Apparently he's also a writer, because it kind of just happened. 

* * *

><p>"Thrummed."<p>

Shunsui spoke the word as if talking to himself. He was sitting in a rich maroon armchair in Ukitake's study, as his lover attempted to write. Jyuushiro gave a mildly chastising look at his lover, who he had thought was asleep.

"Shun, please. I'm trying to compose."

"And I'm trying to help you, to give you some words, since you won't take sake and you banished me to this side of the room."

"I should've banished you to that side of the house. Now hush. The Old Man wants to look over what I have tomorrow, and I have nothing."

"In that case, let me inspire you, Jyuu."

"Shunsui. _Please. _I am in no mood for your seduction, nor am I in the mood to channel Nanao in scolding you."

"And for once, I'm not trying to seduce you. In any case, didn't you tell me that music was very sensual?"

"Actually, that was you. And it was in another instance of said attempted seduction."

Shunsui chuckled at that. "A very successful one, if I remember correctly. And I believe you composed one of your most popular pieces afterwards. See, Jyuu? Sex really is the answer to all problems."

Although Ukitake's gaze remained affectionate, he seemed to be walking a fine line between amusement and genuine annoyance. "Well, not on a deadline it's not. So please let me work."

Shunsui was quiet for a few minutes after that. Ukitake wondered idly if he'd been too harsh.

"Shun?"

No answer.

"I'm sorry. I'm just stressed. I hate composing on a deadline, and you know I work best at a leisurely pace. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Shunsui lifted his hat from his eyes and leveled a long look at Ukitake.

"It's no problem. I just hate to see you so stressed. The old man works you too hard, and I hate not being able to help. So I was trying to throw out some things to help you along."

"Words?"

"Yes. Words that describe how you and your music make me feel."

Jyuushiro blushed. Shunsui wrote short stories in his spare time, and they were often so overly romantic and at times, outright erotic that they bordered on satire. But once in a while, he'd produce a sentence, or a paragraph, which was so honest that it made Ukitake lose his breath. He suspected that Shunsui could write as well as he liked, but spent most of his time writing trashy stories for fun. That would be in the man's nature. Occasionally, he would find little things, a poem on his pillow, or a word traced on the skin of his back, that revealed the true depth of Shunsui's voice. He valued the secret talent his lover possessed, and told him so through his own writing. They traded compositions when they didn't feel like talking, notes for words and sentences for rhythms. It was a game, and yet it was much more than that. But usually, Shunsui was reluctant to talk about writing, even though he had no shame when it came to talking about practically anything else. So a rare admission from the man caught Ukitake's attention.

"And my music…thrums?"

"Yes. You know how some feelings enter your body and sweep through it, so intensely that you feel every vibration? That's thrumming. Like the plucking of a harp string, or the resonance of a chord on the piano."

His serious face morphed into a playful grin.

"Or you in bed."

"Shunsui!"

The admonishment only served to make Shunsui grin as he continued.

"Resonate is another good word. Strong notes resonate. They sneak in your ears, then dance around your consciousness insistently, building all the while. Good words can do that too, although I think that in orchestral terms, strong percussion can get that resonance."

Ukitake listened thoughtfully. He was originally being somewhat indulgent to make up for snapping earlier, but in his own strange way, Shunsui was making sense. Jyuushiro started to jot down notes as Shunsui continued.

"Tension, now that's a good word. Full of sexual undertones and it applies so well to music. Build up the tension with a fierce conflict, than release it suddenly and violently in a blast of sound."

"Are we still talking music, Shun, or is this about sex?"

Shunsui gave his most innocent face, which seemed rather incongruous with the rest of his attire. "Why, Jyuushiro, I was only trying to help you write your music. What would give you the idea that I'm referring to anything else?"

"You always look like a fox in a henhouse when you're trying to hide your lecherous nature. Now, go on."

"Fine, fine. Where was I? Ah, tension and release. Dissonance is another good word. It sounds strange, and somewhat unsettling, but it builds the most fabulous tension. And the more tension, the better the release.

Ukitake hummed slightly in acknowledgement as his jotted down ideas and nodded for Shunsui to continue.

"I'm also partial to the word cacophony. Rather like dissonance, it makes the audience rather uncomfortable with the assault on their ears, but it is a delightful way to introduce a new theme."

Shunsui continued talking as he got up and walked across the room, coming to peer over Ukitake's shoulder.

"As for the resolution, it should be explosive. One huge burst of energy which contains various intricacies. Little musical caresses and ethereal harmonies. Now mind you, these are all simply methods of enhancing the finale."

Shunsui leaned in to whisper in Ukitake's ear.

"And once the swell has subsided, the sensual, plaintive tones of a single bassoon."

Ukitake snapped out of his reverie turn away from his desk and playfully swatted Shunsui away.

"Now you're just angling for a solo. Play fair, Shun, or the others will say that you're sleeping with the composer."

Shunsui pulled the shorter man to his feet, not bothering to step back to allow him any more personal space.

"And what if I am?"

Ukitake returned the playful smile and met his lover's gaze, brushing their foreheads and noses together. "We'll call it inspiration."

Shunsui chuckled for a moment before whispering, practically against Ukitake's lips. "I like the sound of that."


	3. Drumming: Byakuya & Renji, Part 1

A little explanation-this is the next installment of Variations on a Japanese Folk Song. This bit is about Byakuya and Renji, who play flute and percussion respectively, just as a little refresher. This installment will be in either two or three pieces. I'm not sure which yet. Anyway, this has been floating around in my head for about a week now. It is a little light on the romance and heavy on the mild musical angst. But don't worry, it's not really angsty. The focus is still the music geekery. This chapter is about how Byakuya sees Renji while he plays, and since I feel like it is unresolved, I'm planning on writing another one about how Renji sees Byakuya. And then perhaps a third with actual interaction, maybe. So stay tuned.

This story still has received a fairly small response, but multiple people have taken the time to follow/favorite/review. To those who have, thank you so much. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

That's all for now. No matter how many fics I write, I never can get the hang of author's notes...

Oh wait, one more thing. This does reference a fair bit of musical jargon, so if it becomes incomprehensible to the non-musician, please let me know and I'll put up a list of musical terms used and their meanings. Also, I am not a percussionist and have never played a drum in my life. There's not much technical stuff about percussion in here other than what I pick up as a band geek, but if I got anything wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me.

That's all for real! Thanks for reading! 

* * *

><p>Banish the bells, maroon the marimba, vanquish the vibraphone and purge the percussion, for at this moment Abarai Renji was a <em>drummer<em>, and nothing mattered but the booming of the bass drums, the clash of the cymbals and the snickering of the snares.

The sight was the most beautiful and terrifying thing that Byakuya had ever seen.

From the moment that he picked up the drumsticks, Renji began to transform. No longer was he Abarai Renji, percussionist and lover of Kuchiki Byakuya, but something else entirely as glimpses of crimson hair and tattoos dissolved, subjugated by the vibrations of stick on drum. Abarai Renji faded away willingly, replaced by a creature composed entirely of rhythms and accents, paradiddles and syncopation.

Although he had mastered most of the percussion instruments, Renji remained a drummer at heart. Drumming was sound in its purest form, vibrations rendered by one thing striking another. Funnily enough, it by no means required a drum, as any drummer could tell you. Anything that could be hit could be played, could be alternatively coaxed and coerced to release some variety of music, or failing at that, some kind of rhythm, the kind that you cannot hear but rather can feel in your bones. Renji had drummed on the steel bedposts in the orphanage he had run away from and the sidewalks he had used to run away from that place, scuffing out sixteenth notes with the soles of his shoes as he led his small band of children to a destination that was yet to be determined. Drumming was innate, and as long as his heart kept tempo in his chest, he would never be far removed.

Byakuya was fascinated by this part of his lover. Drumming was so animalistic, so wildly ecstatic, that to someone like Byakuya, it was frightening. The antithesis of the meticulously metered trills of the flute, the rhythms that Renji played seemed to flow from his fingers to the music, as he appropriated the notes and bent them to his will, shaping them as gently as a sculptor molds clay or as violently as a blacksmith hammers iron. Although he never technically deviated from the composition, he played with such emotion, such reckless abandon that you would never guess that the ephemeral bursts of vibration, the swan songs of a thousand different notes had been penned down to something as fragile as a piece of sheet music.

When Renji played, he came alive in a way that Byakuya had never seen. He knew every inch of Abarai Renji, but this drummer, this creature who was not quite human but not quite anything else either, was something completely unfamiliar. It was his greatest insecurity that there was this entire majestic aspect of Renji's life that he was confined to view as an outsider, never truly becoming part of the sound which was liberated in a way that he, as a businessman, could never be. And he wondered if Renji, the Renji that he knew, ever got the same rush from touching him that Renji the drummer did every time the vibrations of a note ran through his body. It was his greatest insecurity, that the pressure of his pulse against Renji's chest would never incite the same ecstasy in his lover that the strike of stick and drum did, that the altogether unmetered flutters of his fingers could not match the majesty of a set of syncopated sixteenths.

And although he knew that his worries were likely unfounded, he could never quell the upwelling of emotions, the conflicting forces of liberation and jealousy that rose in his chest whenever Renji (_the drummer) _began to play.

* * *

><p>Please take the time to review! It makes authors happy.<p> 


End file.
